


Freudian Slip

by wendiho



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gangs, Ian is a puppy, M/M, Mickey is very in the closet, Prostitution, Slow Burn, Slurs, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Violence, just a warning, lots of smut, mickey and mandy ran away from home, not just in between Ian/mickey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendiho/pseuds/wendiho
Summary: Mickey and Mandy ran away together from their abusive home. Mickey resorts to stripping and prostitution just to get the both of them barely by. The longer he works this job, the farther he delves into the underworld that is Prostitution. Sex, drugs, money, power, gangs. Ian, a new client of his seems almost determined to help him get out of the dangerous and addictive lifestyle that has consumed him.Title used to be sobriety changed 4/10/18





	1. Prologue

She smells of menthol cigarettes and bubblegum candy, it kind of makes Mickey nauseous in the pit of his stomach but he can get past it. Her manicured nails trail down his torso to the waistband of his shorts. They linger there until she sounds,

“You’re so much more than what they say about you on the streets, you know that? Right?”

What do they say? Who is he kidding? He knows. It’s hard for Mickey to answer at first, the sounds of the club from outside their designated room are almost overwhelming to him.

“Yeah, I don’t give a shit.”

That’s bold. But he’s going to tell himself he doesn’t anyway.

“You’re strong…protective, and fucking sexy in these little shorts.” The girl laughs at her own words, pulling him closer to her and he has no choice but to kiss her. She’s sticky of cheap lipgloss and he’s not sure if he should bother wiping it off or not; there doesn’t seem to be a point in it. Giovanna, Gio is her name. A small girl with blonde hair and dressed in fishnet tights. She’s not a client, she’s not a friend. She’s the underlining reason why he can get by without working overtime. But to Mickey, that doesn’t make her special. He didn’t ask for any of this, she just seems to have the drive to help him for nothing in return.

She has connections. Connections that are appealing: Drugs, money, power. Mandy would tell him it’s a bad idea. Being involved with this girl, working this job, even leaving home. If there’s one thing Mickey doesn’t tolerate out of anything else is being taken advantage of. He doesn’t really know why he’s here, what he’s going to do the next day, but what he does know is that he has it better than he ever would’ve if he was still living in the home he grew up in.

He never could never please his father, even when he was little. Being the youngest brother of the family put a lot of pressure on him, subconsciously or not his parents pushed him the most to be the best because after all, he is their last chance. He’d find himself almost breaking after the end of every day. The yelling, the beatings, the rules & expectations. Mickey drew the line after he found out that Mandy, his little sister was being raped by their own father nearly every day. Mickey will never praise himself as a good brother but he’s protective over every single one of his siblings.

As his body travels down back to earth, he can feel Gio touching him with her small hands. They’re cold, it sends chills all up Mickey’s spine. She’s still kissing him, weaseling her tongue into Mickey’s mouth.

“Ey, it’s still my work hours. Maybe later.” Mickey interjects, wiping excess lipgloss off his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice comes out much louder than intended and he can tell by the widening of the girl’s eyes. Then they soften.

“Okay baby. Meet me around the corner afterward, I’ll be with the guys.”

Mickey nods, not paying too much attention to the person right next to him. He watches her tug down on the bottom of her denim skirt to cover herself, put on her uncomfortable heels before leaving and closing the door behind her.

11:22 pm, Nearly 4 more hours left to his shift. He knows what will get him through it though, party favors. Lots of them. Reaching down to the bedside table drawer, he pulls out a small bag of his happy pills. Ecstasy. It really is what gets him through these nights sometimes.

Popping one on his tongue, lolling his head back and swallowing dry. His nightly ritual. He knows that this isn’t how it works, but he can feel his body instantly fill with adrenaline. Mickey doesn’t know if he should take that as a sign to stop or not.

Coming out back to the front of the club from the back is always the worst. Everyone knows you were back there to do only one thing, sell your body. Especially being a man, the stares can get pretty intense in a club like this in Chicago. At least it attracts more clients that want the same thing from him.

Mickey isn’t gay. He’s told himself this many times before. This is his job, him denying male clients would be ridiculous because 85 percent of them are men. That’s what he hates the most, everyone on the streets call him a faggot for what he does. He will always defend himself. He’s no fag.

Sitting on the bed alone feels weird. The covers are scratchy and are an eyesore of colors to match the fluorescent lights. It is a little surrealistic to be alone in this room to Mickey. The pillows he leans onto are little too hard for comfort that he just decides to suck it up and get the hell out there.

He’s going to ultimately fake it until he makes it through, dwelling too much on what he actually does is intimidating to him. Being in the wave, many different people dancing together to music that isn’t even that good makes him happy. Sometimes he wishes he was on the other side again, sure… he can party and have fun still. But he will never be seen as something more than a whore in this place. Another piece of Southside trash that never had a chance in making it.

It shouldn’t bother him. He’s still a Milkovich even after he and his sister ran away from their family. But should he even be proud of that title? It’s better than being the contrary in other people’s eyes. When you’re a Milkovich people leave you alone. He'd like to be left alone again.

fin;


	2. Trevor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The less I know the better by tame impala plays in the background)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If u don’t like Trevor ur gonna hate this fic so leave (also 5 months later I actually update wow)

Not everyone hated the club scene as much as Mickey did, even if the grime on the poles never left, accompanied by people you’d never touch in your free time. Trevor didn’t seem to mind.

Trevor was his name, he worked alongside Mickey... and to be honest, Mickey was baffled by him. He remained charming and in ‘high demand’ despite his arms being littered with bruises and needle pricks. You could almost overlook it in the dim setting of the club.

Why was a heroin junkie like Trevor important? Because he was cutting into Mickey’s profit. Maybe Mickey couldn’t work the pole like Trevor did, or act like he was actually interested in whatever queen was paying him to suck their dick, but Mickey remained mark free and didn’t overdose every other weekend.

Mickey would never admit he was jealous, but he was. Not of the attention, but the money. He has a sister to look after and is the main of source of income. He has the emotional depth of a teaspoon so he’s just going to assume Trevor only uses his crumpled up bills for brown powder and needles until the end of time. (Easier for him to stay petty like that.)

Tonight the said boy was feeling himself up to the rhythm of the music on a table that was occupied by a girl that was wearing enough eyeliner to qualify to work here. A red-haired boy that was rather drunk looking, to begin with, came back with a round of shots that he strategically placed between Trevor’s spread legs on the table.

Yes, Mickey was staring. He didn’t know for how long, he wasn’t paying attention to time. The two things he did know was that they didn’t seem to notice and it was officially 3 am so his shift was over. Thank god. Mickey was out of there quicker than anyone to have the ability to recognize his face out the door. Was it moral that Mickey wanted to knock Trevor off of his slutty throne even if that meant dumping him in the river? Definitely not.

“Oh cmon, you really can’t stomach another round, Red?” Trevor gritted the statement drunkenly through his teeth after finishing the last shot on their second round. Ian, aka Red according to Trevor just shook his head.

“I told you he was a lightweight.” Jess laughed, placing her small hand between Ian’s shoulder blades.

“Yeah, you weren’t kidding about that one.” Trevor was still sat on the table, his legs on either side of Ian while leaned back in a casual manner. Ian has already been staring at the boy in front of him for hours now, but he was worried if he looked up at him right now he’d use the last of his money just to kiss him. He would.

“It’s after 3, isn’t your shift over? Wanna come back with us to my place?” Jess asked Trevor over the club music that Ian couldn’t make out, visibly not acting quite sober either.

“Oh yeah, it is. Are you gonna pay me?”

“Oh fuck off, you should pay /me/ with the number of benders you’ve spent on my couch.”

Trevor just blows raspberries as a way to dismiss Jess’ statement, then attempting to slide off the table he was mounted on. Ian almost instinctively grabs Trevor's hand to help him down from the table, the other smiles at the tiny gesture. Ian could barely make that out between the lights and his impaired vision due to too many tequila shots, he glad he could though.

“Let me get my shit, then we’ll bounce.”

Then Trevor was gone, disappearing into to the back of the club.

“He’s fun, right?” Jess bumps shoulders with Ian as a way to tease him he assumes, by the look on she has on her face. “He sure is.” He agrees and he isn’t lying. This is probably one of the most... interesting friends Jess has shown to him in his history of knowing her. And she knows a lot of different people.

Trevor is more appropriately dressed for the harsh Chicago winter, his sparkly go go shorts wouldn’t have shielded him from a gust of wind. Ian watches him flimsily light a cigarette between his lips while they wait for a cab because none of them are sober enough to walk in a straight line. It’s not like they even came here in a car in the first place.

The brunet offers him a cigarette with a lopsided smile and Ian couldn’t say no. Anything to shield his body from this weather, even a little bit. The feminine frame between them watches as Trevor lights a stoge for him in the barely illuminated dark outside the club, hands brushing together.

“Need a cab?” A distant voice calls from a dingy car, “Yes!” Jess bounces up and waves her hand in the air to let the man in the car know she heard his question. She pulls both of the boys with her into the back seats forcing them to drop their cigarettes into the slush on the sides of the street.

“Will 20 bucks get me to the other side?” She straightens out a crumpled twenty dollar bill with a hopeful face. They just get a nod in return.

It’s painfully obvious none of them are sober during this car trip. Jess is leaning against the window, a small amount of fog showing up on the window when she breathes out, disappearing when she slowly inhales back again.

Trevor is leaned against Ians shoulder, quite by choice. He’s playing with the loose buttons of Ian's jacket and it’s making Ian's already unstable breath hitch. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to look at Jess’ friend that was just dancing on him for 5 bucks not even 30 minutes ago. So much for first impressions, right?

Ian found himself curled up in Jess’ bed half naked, no one next to him when he woke up. It doesn’t take much of him to spot Jess, who’s making what he assumes is eggs in her small kitchen. He sits up and stretches like a cat, getting used to the morning light that’s peaking through the curtains.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Trevor sounded from the couch he slept on, stretching himself. His eyeliner was messy and he was clad in just his shorts again, this time accompanied by a blanket slung over his shoulders.

“Mornin.” Ian responded back, trying his best to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Jess came through, attempting to balance multiple plates of eggs and toast on her tippy toes. Ian laughed, getting up to help her.

“That’s breakfast.” She said almost proudly, pulling her shirt back up onto her shoulder after it had slid down.

Ian nodded a Thanks, he really was starving. And very hungover. Jess seemed to feel the same, sitting right next to him on the bed to eat.

“Want any?” Ian offered to Trevor, who was still on the sofa across from them.

“Nah, I got my own breakfast.” He waved Ian off nonchalantly, digging into his bag he brought from the club he works at. Ian just assumes he had brought a granola bar or something for himself. He was quite surprised after looking up to see a few moments later.

Trevor was busy filling a needle with what Ian assumed to be heroin, he wasn’t paying much attention to Ian's eyes on him as he flicked the now prepared needle. Now, Ian grew up with Frank and Monica as parents, so this definitely wasn’t the first person he has seen shoot up in front of him before. And yes, Jess said he was a ‘total junkie’ in passing but it still threw him a little off guard.

Trevor sucked air through his teeth as he slowly began to shoot the heroin up into his vein. It’s like clockwork for him now, he woke up needing a fix like he does every day. He slinks back into the couch cushions behind him and sighs, he doesn’t get high as he used to but it brings a wave of calm over his body. He locks eyes with Ian, who was staring. Not rudely, but definitely not used to seeing Trevor do these activities. After all, they just met yesterday.

“That’s my breakfast.” He confirms for Ian and Jess laughs at the remark, giving him a fond look. Ian just nods, he knows that now.

fin;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a very short lil update and my way of introducing y’all to all the main characters in this fic so we can get that out of the way. (And if you were wondering, Jess is an OC.)


End file.
